The Bridges We Burn
by KayleighBough
Summary: Post-Aliyah. Those were my silences, not yours; I had four years to tell you. But I can still do this. Even if you never know.


****Spoilers: Aliyah****

* * *

Last night, I dreamt of Ari.

The night I killed him. The moment his eyes shift and find my shadow on the stair. The twitch of the jaw, the deadening of the eye.

He knew he was dead, long before the bullet ever got him. I was just the last sign.

Murderer and executioner.

* * *

_No time for goodbyes._

_The plane engines roar with sound, and at that moment I realise I am lost. _

_Because I gave you a choice you would never make._

_Because you are leaving, and I am still here. _

_The plane fades fast, lost in the eternal dust._

"_Take care of yourself."_

_Because not even you could save me. _

* * *

Dreams fade, and I fell from the dark. Nothing seems to change. The right followed the left during the night; now both eyes are swelled shut.

Not that there's much to look at. Concrete is the same no matter where you are. Darkness will do just as well.

Waking up is the worse part, I have decided. The aches rise to the surface. A week is long enough to stiffen up to stone. The smell of blood is always in the air, and breathing just isn't worth the feel of broken ribs resettling.

I think…

I might be in trouble.

Sitting in a chair gives you a lot of time to regret, to mark the mistakes.

I should have told you. At the very beginning, that first doubt.  
But you were all the way back in D.C. You don't use email, and calling was out of the question. I should have told McGee something was wrong; though what could I have said?

Excuses.

Three years away, and it only took him three weeks. No point pretending, I never had a chance. All fall before the relentless will of Eli David, and we only escape in death.

Ari knew, I think.  
Or maybe that last look was something else.

I was doomed the moment he assigned me to watch over Rivkin.

To be his ear. Be the cold and steady hand.  
Be the stone against his raging tide, his uncertainty, his fear, his wavering faith. His suspicions against my father. Save him from the doubt that took Ari.

Or maybe he was part of it all along.

I don't know.

Either way, it makes what I had to do to get so close hurt that much more.

…

I wish Tony could have trusted me.  
Wish he could have hidden his disgust better. Wish I could have told him why, before Rivkin was dead.

After that, there was no point. Dead men are empty boxes of half remembrances and what we say of them. Ari is a monster in death, but he wasn't always. Rivkin will be assigned questions no one can answer.

He would be glad. Now no one will know how scared he was.

…

What you will think of me?

Though Africa's a big place to get lost in. Maybe you'll never know.

Just what I think, then.

I could not save Rivkin from himself. Could not save myself from this. Have to add that to the lies I told Tony, that I would never be taken alive.

I hope he realises I didn't mean it. Any of it.  
Though I suppose that is a lie too, in a way.

You...

I…

….

Suppose there's no point. The mistake was mine. Those were my silences, not yours. I had four years to tell you. But for all of what my Father said, I would never kill Ari for him.

Even if you never know.

There's smoke in the air. The door will open in a minute.

Six steps.

Then…

….

It doesn't matter. In the end.

…

Body learns fast. It's already shivering, before the grate of metal.

Only a fool has no fear.

Those same measured steps. The smell of cigarettes and burning rubber as he crushes embers underneath his shoe.

There's something else, beneath that. The shaking is outside of my control.

Someone else is here.

This is it, then.

…

_Still silent? Don't worry, I have all the time in the world to make you talk._

…

I owe you this. One last thing. I can manage. Like he said, he's got all the time in the world.  
But I won't last that long. Silence, then, is easy to keep.

_Are you waiting for someone? _There's a hand on my cheek. Heavy, stinks of metal. If he feels dampness, it doesn't seem to matter.

No different to Rivkin, or my father.

_There will be no saviour. _His voice is gentle.

No.

I suppose that is too much to ask.

_Shall we begin?_

Hatzileni me'atzmi.

Goodbye, Gibbs.


End file.
